The Perspective of Boo Radley
by RedRosary2
Summary: What is Boo Radley's perspective of Scout's world? Is his world any different from Scout's? Have a peek into Boo Radley's world and how he feels about everything. Find more about him then you thought you would have! (Obviously this is just what I think he's thinking and how his life is. I give all credit to Harper Lee for writing To Kill a Mockingbird.)
1. Gifts

Seems like a lovely day out, I think to myself. Maybe there's a spring breeze blowing the green leaves on the trees. I'd like to open a window to confirm my thoughts, but I fear I might be seen. The children next door are away at school so they have no chance of catching their much wanted glimpse of me.

I sigh and move away from the window where I have my only perfect view of the world outside. I'm not sure what makes me think of it, but I remember the little pack of double-mint gum that my brother Nathan bought for me.

My mouth waters for the delicious flavor of the gum. I want to share it with somebody, but sadly, Nathan doesn't like gum. A thought suddenly crossed my mind. I could share the gum with the children next door!

But how to get it to them?

As I form a plan in my head, I grab two pieces of gum out of the pack, and glance back out the window. The best plan I come up with is just to run outside and hope for the best.

Foolproof.

Peering out the window again, I confirm that no one is watching. I pause behind the door that leads outside, my fingers brushing the brass knob.

I feel like I'm having second thoughts. I could casually walk out and _casually _find a place to leave the gum, and then _casually _go back inside. I realize that I've been clenching the gum in my hand to the point they're almost crushed. I quickly straighten them out the best I can.

Sighing, I put a confident, firm grasp on the door handle. Taking a deep breath, I think, "For the children," and open the door to the spring day.

I'm right about the spring breeze that blows my feathery sand colored hair. I take steps until I'm completely off the front porch. The sun gets into my eyes and I shade it with my hand.

I notice a tree beside the sidewalk and examine it, hoping to find a spot to leave my gift. That's when I see it. A knothole in the tree just at a child's eye level!

I'm almost giddy about leaving the gum that I forget to be casual, and run as fast as I can back inside the house.

Eagerly, I wait for the children to come home. As I sat at the window, my eagerness faded. Slowly I get bored and hoped that one of the children could come soon. I feel if I left that I wouldn't see the children or see them take the gum.

No sooner had I thought these thoughts, when I spotted the neighbor girl, who couldn't have been much older than 6 or 7, noticed the gum and grabbed it excitedly.

I smiled.

I watched her run towards her home and inside her house. I could see the hunger in her eyes as she shoved the both pieces into her mouth. I had meant that she share it with her brother.

Over the course of time, I had left many different items in the knothole of the tree. I repeated the process of my short adventure numerous times. Each time leaving something different for the girl and her brother. After the gum, I left two pennies, a broken pocket watch with a knife, a spelling medal that I had won years ago, a ball of twine, but one day, I ran out of things to give them.

Frantically, I searched the house for something. All I could come up with was two bars of soap and a pocketknife used for whittling. I sat on the edge of the tub staring at the bars of soap. What could I do with these?

I remember watching my brother whittle little figurines out of wood. He would carve bears, rabbits, and other little animals. I admired him for this. I could do the very same thing if I tried hard enough, but instead of wood, I have bars of soap.

Thus began my whittling of the soap dolls.


	2. Remembering

One was a figurine of the little girl next door, the other a figurine of her older brother. I marveled at my two masterpieces and was feeling very proud of myself. I put them next to each other to compare them. They were the same height, though they didn't stand up very well, and smelled very lovingly of lavender.

Once again, I was giddy with happiness as I made my way to put the soap figurines in the knothole of the tree. I again waited for them to come home. My giddiness increased when I saw them come around the corner towards the tree. They stopped at the tree and looked into the knothole.

I watched as they took the soap dolls in their hands and stared at them for quite some time. I began to realize that they were as confused as I was, although for different reasons. The boy looked up at the house and scanned over my window. I stepped back from the glass not wanting to be seen.

They both ran towards their home. I felt something wet on my face and reached up to wipe it away. I always forget how crying feels. It comes so often that I forget that it is my own tears running down my face. The children obviously didn't like the soap dolls and I feel as if I had failed at this gift.

I remember a lot of things over the years after giving the children gifts. My brother, Nathan, put cement in the knothole of the tree in order to keep me from giving them anything else. Once, I yelled at him for doing such a thing. He told me that times were tough and that the children would get whatever they wanted from their father. We needed things too.

I haven't fully forgiven him for the knothole yet.

Another one of my adventures outside one year was when Miss Maudie's house caught on fire. I could see the flames and almost feel the heat through my window. I watched as the people helped get her things out of the house and into the yard. I watched as the roof caved in, the rubble disintegrating in the flames. I even noticed that the two children were in front of my house.

The girl looked so cold. She was moving her feet trying to keep warm. Without thinking, I grabbed a spare blanket and headed towards the door. Among the chaos I didn't think anybody would notice me, and I was right, but I took precaution anyway.

Carefully I draped the blanket over the girl's shoulders. She nor her brother noticed me. I calmly went back into the house and did not come out for several months.

I did not come back out until the month of October. The town gathered at the high school down the street for a get together, I of course stayed inside my house.

That horrible night I took a man's life.

I was sitting in my living room when I heard commotion not far down the street. I couldn't see what was happening, but I knew I hadn't seen the children come home from the get together. I was always watching out for them.

I ran to the kitchen for a butcher knife, not knowing who or what I was going to face, and ran outside towards the commotion. The sound of the cracking bone was almost deafening in my ears.

I was met face to face with the smell of drunkenness and hate. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I pulled the man off of the boy. We struggled, knife against knife, man against man. The girl in her costume had rolled away from us. I could just see the outline of his body and went to deflect his knife with mine. He stumbled drunkenly and my knife was lost under his ribs, except for the handle.

I stared dumbly at the knife in his gut as he staggered backward and against the tree. I heard his last bit of air breath his lungs. I scrambled toward the boy and picked him up as gently as I could into my arms and began walking towards his house.

**I'm so sorry for not updating for a few months! I decided I was going to skip a bunch of the details and just get the main parts where Scout and Jem or whoever actually interacts with Boo (or viseversa). Please tell me what you think or what I could improve on in a review! Thank you so much!  
**


	3. Finale

I don't know why I left the girl where she was. I would come back for her later if I could, or needed to. I barged into the house and found my way towards the parlor. Alexandra was sitting in a chair reading a book while Atticus sat on the couch, listening to the radio.

Atticus jumped up from his seat as soon as he saw me enter. "What happened?" he asked reaching for his boy.  
I let him take his son into his arms and followed him to the bedroom. I didn't want to answer. Alexandra followed close behind us. "What happened?" she echoed her brother.

"His arm must be broken," Atticus said, laying his son on the bed. "Cal?" he called walking out of the room. "Call a doctor. Now."

"Where's Scout?" Alexandra asked suddenly more jumpy than she had been. "Where is Scout?"

"Atticus, doctor is on his way," Calpurnia called down the hallway from the kitchen where the phone was kept.

"Thank you, Cal."

"Yessur."

I tried my best to stay out of the way of the bustling of everybody. The doctor came and took care of the boy as best as he could. I stood off in the corner by the door. I heard commotion come from the front of the house. I stayed in the room with Atticus, Alexandra, and the boy. I hadn't realized that the sheriff, Heck Tate, would be coming through the door, but not much to my surprise, Scout entered the room.

She glanced at me and I thought she was going to say something, but she didn't and paid her attention back to her brother.

Atticus invited Heck into the room and asked him if he had found anything or the person who had attacked his boy. They all sat down in a chair, I stayed standing where I was. I didn't listen to the conversation between Heck and Scout, but I snapped my attention back to their words when Heck said, "Bob Ewell's lyin' on the ground under that tree down yonder with a kitchen knife stuck up under his ribs. He's dead, Mr. Finch."

I tried not to make it obvious that I cringed when I heard those words. "Yes, I killed him!" I wanted to scream. "I was the one who stuck the knife under Ewell's gullet! It was me!" but I stayed quiet.

As Scout told her story, with the adults interrupting every few sentences to clear things up, I listened to her. I hoped and prayed that somehow her innocence was kept safe for another night. Heck Tate asked if Atticus or Alexandra heard anything and they said they didn't. Their radios were up too loud.

I felt irritated as if someone had rubbed me the wrong way, then wondered if the neighbors had heard anything. Did they have their radios turned up too? It was likely, but I stopped my wondering and continued listening.

"—wasn't crazy, mean as hell. Low-down skunk with enough liquor in him to make him brave enough to kill children. He'd never have met you face to face." Tate was talking to Atticus. They exchanged a few more words about how Ewell was a coward for coming after a black woman (which I had heard nothing about), Judge Taylor (again, something I hadn't heard about), and how he wasn't brave enough to see Atticus in person. They let Scout continue her story.

It was my least favorite part of the whole ordeal, not that I liked it in the first place. She described how Ewell had come up and come after her first, then Jem pulled him off and fought him under the tree. She paused when she realized the loud noise was her brother's arm breaking, which was also the sound that I heard before coming to their rescue, then continued her story. I couldn't help but feel a little bit of pride when I heard her say that somebody yanked Ewell off of her for the second time, but I felt sick afterwards since I knew what was to happen next.

"—I thought Atticus had come to help us and had got wore out—"

"Who was it?"

"Why there he his, Mr. Tate, he can tell you his name." She pointed at me but quickly put her arm down. I had my arms crossed in front of me but had put them at my sides with the palms against the wall. Scout looked at me up and down, taking in the strange man in the corner. She looked at my pale, sickly hands, my stained pants, my torn denim shirt, and my practically hollow face. My feathery pale hair stuck out in odd places.

Then I realized that she wasn't afraid of me; just curious. She took all of me in, as I was. I realized that it would be okay to smile at her, so I did. I smiled as best as I knew how (which wasn't very well.) and she took it with gratitude.

"Hey, Boo," she said softly and sweetly.

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**Hey thank you so much for reading this story! If you figured, I did have the book out in front of me when writing this last chapter. I felt that it wouldn't have been the same if I didn't have the actual quotes and stuff with me. **

**I wasn't sure how to end this, but I have another part I could add on to it if you feel I need to put a better ending. Please review on what you thought of this!**

**Thanks again!**


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